Clifford the Big Red Dog gives me a doggie nose before our big song and dance number.
Busy, busy, too busy to write, exhausted when the kids wake me at what feels like three in the morning but is really almost time for school only five minutes to make their lunches and hustle them into coathatbootsgloves and out the door, yelling after them, "Be kind! Take the high road! Make me proud" before I collapse back in bed for half an hour of swirling mind overflowing with To Dos and costume details and key changes and tricky harmonic intervals and the Girl Scout events that I refused to reschedule into a less crazy time of March just because I will not say Can't even though I barely Can.
The overcast days are hard but when the stage lights go on, I'm finally warm. Two dance and sing numbers in the elementary school Variety Show, plus the all-cast opener and closer plus three scenes of a goofy skit where I mug shamelessly and do great violence to the Irish dialect.
I'm in a musical! My favorite art form, where imagination takes artifice as plausible and bright happy illusions are accepted as true for a few brief bars of music.
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